Quotes About Atmosphere

There is an atmosphere of spiritual effort here. No other city is quite like it. I wake early, often at 5 o'clock, and start writing at once.

Fear is an acid which is pumped into one's atmosphere. It causes mental, moral and spiritual asphyxiation, and sometimes death; death to energy and all growth.

Whenever the tissue of life is woven of legalistic relationships, this creates an atmosphere of spiritual mediocrity that paralyzes a person's noblest impulses.

I am sad, like the hot dust on the streetsAnd the music of fresh fallen leavesCaught in a sliding summer breeze.

The most beautiful thing in the world is a ballpark filled with people.

It's still fun to come to games, and it's still fun to be in the Seattle crowd.

Over there, Kevin McHale, I feel like I'm talking to someone I know. It's just a total different atmosphere.

The environment is everything that isn't me.

I should like a thoroughly bad climate," he answered. "I believe one would write better if the climate were bad. If there were a lot of wind and storms

The old self seemed unprecedentedly heavier than the surrounding atmosphere.

Del choque de las nubes resulta la electricidad del relámpago y del relámpago la luz.

Llegaron del salón las notas de un piano cansado: disolvían el tiempo, hasta hacerlo casi irreconocible.

Can we account for instinct?' said Monte Cristo. 'Are there not some places where we seem to breathe sadness? — why, we cannot tell. It is a chain of recollections — an idea which carries you back to other times, to other places — which, very likely, have no connection with the present time and place.

she imagined what it would be like to live with somebody who had secrets. Instead of a comfortable atmosphere of trust there would be a nagging insecurity, like a corrosive crust, eating away at the fabric of the marriage. Doubts would spread like weeds, making it impossible to relax, spoiling everything.

and with it would come that wonderful, unmistakable smell of rain, that smell of dust and water meeting that lingered for a few seconds in the nostrils and then was gone, and would be missed, sometimes for months, before the next time that it caught you and made you stop and say to the person with you, any person: That is the smell of rain, there, right now.

She watched him take the trumpet from its case and fit the mouthpiece. She watched as he raised it to his lips and then, so suddenly, from that tiny cup of metal against his flesh, the sound would burst out like a glorious, brilliant knife dividing the air. And the little room would reverberate and the flies, jolted out of their torpor, would buzz round and round as if riding the swirling notes.

Places had echoes- and if one were sensitive, one might just pick up some resonance from the past, some feeling for what had happened.

Violins sang, brass crowed, while bassoons, she felt, rumbled according to a Richter scale all of their own. Charlie

IF EITHER OF THEM had felt tetchy, the concert put them both in a good mood.

It was typical of so many rural French restaurants, with its air of quiet assurance, a sense of being what it was and nothing more.

Perhaps the cloud had blown over and covered his sky.

the fragrance of a sound

The building he took her to was an abandoned foundry out in the countryside and rain leaked in everywhere.

You maybe able to fool the voters, but not the atmosphere.